Take a Chance on Me
by Tandy
Summary: EWE. There was no oxygen coming into her lungs, or into her brain, all she knew was that Severus Snape was making her hot.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Unbeta'd. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.

A/N: I've been dying to write an SS/HG forever. Unfortunately, my writing skills are not great. I always end up botching Snape. This is the first semi-decent SS/HG fic that I've been able to produce. It's going to be a two or three part fic, hopefuly lighthearted. Please leave your comments. Thanks!

* * *

PART I

Hermione sat in the front row, pen and notebook ready, waiting eagerly for the lecture to begin. This was almost like being back at Hogwarts, she thought excitedly. She couldn't wait to see the billowing robes arrive at the podium, couldn't wait to hear him speak. It was so terribly exciting.

She mustn't draw attention to herself, she reminded herself, trying to cap a lid on her bubbling excitement, lest he embarrassed her in front of the Wizarding World's intelligentsia. Professor Snape surely hadn't changed in the preceding years since he had terrorized the children of Hogwarts. She smoothed over her pretty blue robes, made sure her hair was as tidy as could be in her bun and sat straight in her chair, the picture of restraint and decorum.

Her resolve was shattered as soon as Professor Snape walked to the stage and took charge of the podium. She had attended the symposium on Magical Maladies at St. Mungo's because it fed her hunger for knowledge. However, the cherry on top of this particular event was that Severus Snape would be lecturing. It had seemed like good fun at the time, to relive Hogwarts once again, even if it was with the most intimidating professor she'd had.

It wasn't like that at all. _At all._

Professor Snape looked pretty much as she remembered. The reaction to his appearance, that hit her right in the gut, she didn't remember at all. It was crazy, this appeal he had, dark and, well, sexy. He looked the same and yet he didn't. She was staring at him, rudely so, and he caught her. His dark eyes locked on hers for a millisecond before dismissing her. Regardless, Hermione kept on staring; studying him, trying to decipher just what about him had made her salivate on sight.

His voice was like dark chocolate, smooth and rich, and flitted through Hermione in spurs and bursts only, too intent on his physical form to give adequate attention to his knowledge. She already knew he was brilliant from her years at Hogwarts and more recently by devouring all the research papers he had published.

Already knowing about his intelligence, Hermione chose to focus instead on his physical attributes. Tall and slim, not gaunt, just slim, just perfect. Long hair gathered at the back, nice, very nice, clean shaven, no longer so pale, a nicer darker complexion. Fit, very fit, with a runner's body. Same awful nose, same crooked teeth, but appealing, in predatory way…

What was she on about? Crooked teeth? She was going bonkers for sure. To think she'd wanted to reminisce about Hogwarts and ended up with an out of control libido. She closed her eyes, because really, it was just too much.

That voice, that chocolaty voice, filled the room, filled her head, her insides, it felt delicious, sensual. She snapped her eyes open again because she was on the verge of letting out a frustrated moan. To her everlasting bad luck she opened them just in time to see him demonstrating on some potion or another.

His hands, Merlin, were intoxicating to observe; the strength in them, the confidence of his grip on the stirring rod, the large hand, the protruding knuckles, the deftness in them, and the power held there.

Sensory overload.

Hermione would have to excuse herself if this went on for much longer. There was no oxygen coming into her lungs, or her brain, all she knew was that Severus Snape was making her hot.

* * *

The young woman was making Snape uncomfortable. She looked at him as if he was a meal she was intent of devouring. There wasn't even a pretense of taking notes with her, she just stared. She looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.

Ignoring her didn't work, as he cold feel her eyes burning his skin, so he delved into himself, his magic, to block the reaction to the witch's gaze. Only in that way, was he able to finish his presentation. Really, he must be going soft to let the simple gaze of a young woman unnerve him.

The woman in blue remained in the periphery of his mind throughout his lecture, it was with some relief that he watched her exit hastily when the question and answer portion of his presentation began. He breathed a little easier once she left, but to his utter consternation she came back only after a few minutes.

Who was this woman? It irked him to no end that she had unsettled him so.

The mysterious woman sat quietly during the session, with her hands on her lap, occasionally gazing up when he answered questions, but never once raising her hand to ask a question. Obviously, the woman was a dunderhead. A very attractive dunderhead from what he could see. A very familiar looking one as well, although he was too focused on his presentation to fully dig into his memory for the identity of the witch.

The small reception took place right after he had spoken, in which the public and speakers could interact freely. Usually Snape would have skipped it altogether, but he had to admit that he was somewhat intrigued by the young witch. He kept her eyes trained on him, and kept getting closer and closer to where he was standing, as if she was circling a prey and getting ready to pounce.

Prey, that's what he felt like. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling; on the contrary, it was quite a novelty to see a witch with such forwardness, delightfully refreshing. Still something about her made him ill at ease.

"Professor Snape," she greeted, finally pouncing. "It's a great pleasure to hear you speak." She smiled becomingly.

Snape blinked, _Professor?_ Merlin, but it was the Granger girl. It was Granger in grown up clothes, Granger with a semi tamed mane of hair, Granger in stockings and sexy heeled boots. It was Granger's face, alright, with the pert nose, and the big brown inquisitive eyes, but the stamp of childhood was now gone.

She had been what, seventeen, when he had last seen her? Hair everywhere, gawkiness personified and a tendency to run her mouth off and show off at every opportunity. She had certainly come into her own, Snape thought, running her eyes over her discretely.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

She had a look in her eye, the same one that had her practically jumping out of her seat back at Hogwarts to ask or answer a question. He sighed, at the injustice of it, "What is it, Ms. Granger? Out with it."

She was probably dying to ask something about the new properties of the Wolfsbane potion he had developed. Mayhap ask about a point he had made in one of his previous articles. Only Granger would looked turned on at the chance to gain knowledge.

She smiled a smile that made him feel like prey again. Scary. She was a bit scary. "I would like to ask you out for dinner, sir." She noted the denial on his lips before he spoke and quickly added, "That is, I'm very interested in the point you made in _Potions Today_, and would like to discuss it further with you."

Her smile wasn't quite guileless, nor was the predatory look on her eye, or the way she spoke the last statement that sounded decidedly dirty to Snape's ears. He leaned in closer to her, which was a mistake because now he could smell her perfume.

"What point is that?"

"Ah, the statement you made about witch hazel acting as a catalysts for the babbling potion."

"Witch hazel, crushed into a powder, and slowly stirred in will bind with the rose hips to activate the reaction. Any further questions?"

"No, sir"

"Then I see no reason for dinner."

She moved even closer to him, toe to toe with him and looked up at him with intense eyes. "Sir, go out with me."

"Absolutely not."

"May I call on you then? Write you?"

"Ms. Granger you are being completely-"

"Insuferable, I know. I can't help it."

"You're wasting your time."

"I doubt it, sir. I think I will enjoy courting you very much."

_Courting_ _me_? Could she really be this forward? By the look of her eye though, he should substitute courting for hunting. Merlin, he was in trouble.

"I've no interest in you, Granger," he sneered at her and left, feeling as if his words would hardly be a deterrent for his former student.

* * *

_Dear Sir, _

_ I'll make this short and sweet. I admit I was a bit overzealous. However, do not think I have rushed into this without thinking. I have admired your intellect since I first met you and since last week, seeing you as a grown woman, have instantly developed a strong attraction for you._

_I think you and I would make extremely good match. We're both intellectuals, voracious readers, that share some history._ _That is a good foundation to start a new relationship. I ask only for a chance, to see if we are as compatible as I think we are. _

_Sincerely,_

_ HJG_

_Enclosed: A token of my affection. _

She was a wily one, writing to the hospital in which he worked. Little witch, trying to appeal to him with logic. They had an interest in intellectual pursuits. So bloody what? "Insufferable bushy-haired, buckteeth, know-it-all," he cursed through clenched teeth. His familiar looked up at him questioningly, and Snape patted her on the head to ease her down.

She was much too young for him. Granger stilled addressed him as 'sir', or "Professor" for Merlin's sake. She was young still. Different stages, different goals. It would not do at all except for an empty dalliance. And he was much too old for that.

The token turned out to be a bookmark. It was made of wood, simple and elegant with a date etched on. The date when he had lectured at St. Mungo's.

Dissuading the woman would not be an easy task. She was tenacious and goal oriented and she had set her sights on him. Snape was positive that the woman had achieved everything she had set her mind to. Still, perhaps it would be fun to repel her attentions, it should not be so hard, after all he had spent the majority of his life until recently actively repelling people.

"Here, Clover," he said to his familiar, handing her the bookmark, "A new chew toy."

He set quill to parchment and did his worst.

* * *

"…. the pathetic attempts of a desperate divorcee…."

"Ouch," Neville said, wincing for Hermione's behalf.

"…. foolish woman…. no interest in a witch such as yourself with no redeeming qualities except for your brain, which in truth is a liability as well…" and on in went, disparaging her character.

"I think he likes me."

The tree other occupants at the table, Luna, Padme and Neville, at a small pub in Hogsmeade looked at each other as if deciding weather to have Hermione committed.

"No, really. He was looking at me at the symposium, before he recognized me, which definitely spoke of interest. If I wasn't me he'd concede to at least one date."

"But you are you, Hermione," Padma told her.

"He'll just have to get over that fact," Hermione said stubbornly.

Luna who at that point had remained silent spoke, "The only thing worst than what you are doing is doing nothing at all."

"Yes, I'm being proactive," Hermione smiled at Luna.

"What you're doing is scaring him off, ever try being demure?" Padma asked.

"Doubt demureness would evoke a response from the professor," Neville surmised. "Like Luna said, she's taking a risk, which is better than doing nothing and eliciting absolutely no response from the professor."

"What you all seem to forget," Padma said, trying to reason with the group, "Is that we don't know the professor at all. We didn't know him at Hogwarts and we don't know him now. These notions that fly around about him could be wrong. Who knows what he's really like or what he wants?"

"I know he's brilliant, attractive, and powerful… the rest I would find out if he agreed to go on a bloody date with me."

Padma wanted to roll her eyes; Hermione as smart as she was didn't have the purely logical mind of a Ravenclaw and would sometimes let her emotions lead her instead of her intellect. Padma could foresee no good end to this.

"Stage one is completed. I wrote, he responded. Now it's time for stage two."

Padma and Neville were truly afraid of what Stage two would entail. Luna just smiled at her as she drank her butterbeer.

"Guys, I know that my actions may seem a little unbalanced. I've thought this through and I really believe the Professor could be '_the one_' for me. He's everything I've been looking for and I'm not going to give it up because he's intellectually opposed to me. I have to give this at least a chance."

Padma shook her head at Hermione's single mindedness but respected and sometimes even envied her courage.

* * *

Hermione sat in the front row again, this time at a Wizarding University in Marseilles France, trying not squirm in her seat as she raised her hand as far as it could go to ask a question.

The professor had given her one death glare when he had seen her, and hadn't looked at her since. Stage two would be a failure if the Professor didn't call on her. She was somewhat relived as well, as she felt her courage might fail her if he did grant her a question.

"Aw, Mr. Snape, I cede my query to that young lady sitting up front who's been waving for your attention with no avail," said a man in the back row said with a heavy Italian accent that the Professor had called upon.

Hermione blushed from head to toe, regardless of what she was about to do. She waved a little thank you to the older wizard at the back. He winked at her.

"Very well, what will it be?" the professor said in his smooth voice, the sound of his words resonating throughout her body, making Hermione feel as if she were melting. It didn't help that his eyes were boring down on her, it didn't help that she had glimpse of his crooked teeth as he sneered at her, or that his large hands gripped the sides of the podium so hard his veins protruded slightly.

"I would like to ask you to go out on a date with me. Just one. Sir."

"No. Next question," he said automatically.

By the time he answered though, the room had burst into well meaning laughter and gasps of surprise as well as some request for Snape to accept the offer. The professor left the stage when it was obvious the crowd held no more interest in magical theory and continued to heckle his refusal of Hermione.

Her spirits were somewhat lifted at the response form the audience, yet the public rejection, which she ultimately knew would happen, still stung. Hermione knew he would reject her; the object hadn't been for him to say yes, but for him to know she was serious and would not give up. Now hopefully she hadn't embarrassed him beyond repair…

* * *

"Snape, you prat, let me through," called an elderly wizard from his floo. The very same Wizard who helped Granger make a mockery of him in front of his peers. "Fine. My old bones will just have to make due in such an uncomfortable position."

"Serves you right."

"Don't be ass, Snape."

Snape took a book from his library, sat down on his comfortable sofa, put on his glasses and proceeded to read while his familiar napped at his feet.

"She's a charming young lady with a tight firm bum that makes me wish I were younger. She's brilliant it seems, which is a must for you, although I myself always preferred witless beauties. What could possibly be wrong with her?"

"She's young, Moretti, a former student."

"Only you would see youth as a disadvantage. Why in my day…"

_Lecherous old man_, Snape thought.

"I'm an your friend, Severus, and believe it or not, I would like for you to be happy," Moretti said in a kind voice. "I don't see why you are refusing this young and like minded woman who is going to great lengths to show you her interest in you."

"She's merely infatuated. It will pass. And I'm perfectly happy now, without her."

Moretti sighed loudly. "You're not happy, hardly. You are content, satisfied, but not truly happy. You're missing out on an opportunity here."

"Mind your own bloody business."

Knowing that Snape was in one of his moods, Moretti stepped off the floo and let his friend be. How can someone so intelligent be so stupid? He'd admired the younger man's keen mind every since he met him, and was more than happy to leave the position of Head Researcher at San Rafaelle Hospital in Snape's capable hands. The matter of Snape's personal life was something he had despaired over for just as long.

What to do? What to do?

* * *

Hermione had never been to this part of Italy, usually her travels took her to museums, ancient ruins, or metropolitan areas. Currently she was residing in a quaint little inn in the small village of Antonella. It was picturesque, complete with cobbled roads and a delicious trattoria.

As much charm as it had, Hermione's feet were aching from having walked the whole village more times than she could count. People were starting to look at her funny anyway, thus a trip to the nearby beach would suit her just fine.

Maybe the letter had been a joke, she thought dejectedly, maybe someone was laughing at her from far away. Maybe the professor was in on it. It made too much sense though, a rural village in Italy, close by where the professor worked…

She sat down on the sand, wistfully staring at the horizon, carefully strategizing stage three. It would be her last attempt; you could lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.

The next thing she knew she had a lap full of dog who was dying to slobber her face. It was a big heavy dog, but strangely exuded no threat or aggression. It was in fact a happy and friendly looking dog.

"Clover, you mongrel, come back here!"

The voice made Hermione's stomach flop. She gave silent thanks to the anonymous person who had sent the letter.

"Mi dispiace-"

"Hello, sir, fancy meeting you here."

Wow, he was really angry. And hot. Black pants, tennis shoes, a dark blue sweater. Muggle Snape. Very nice. Oh, but he was walking away…

"Sir. Sir!"

"You are a crazy woman. Absolutely nutters! I have never met such pig headed obtuse woman in my life," he said turning around, practically shooting fire out of his mouth.

The dog barked excitedly around them oblivious to his master's mood. "One date, one single date, and afterwards I do not want to ever see you again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Giovanni's tonight. Eight o'clock. Do not be late."

Hermione nodded vigorously, feeling as she had just been sentenced to detention instead of finally getting her date. She watched him walk away, the dog at his heels, his hair loose, and told herself he was worth the trouble.

Hermione took a seat opposite to him exactly five minutes before eight. Snape had to admit she looked quite fetching. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun again, this time with the added artistry of a side braid. Tight jeans, boots, a brown sweater was her ensemble and it made her look young and pretty and the smile that blossomed on her face at the sight of him made him feel old.

"Good evening, Professor," she said.

"Ms. Granger."

"Did you know," she continued, "That muggle researches have actually found that opposites don't attract? It turns out most couples are more similar than they are different."

The waiter interrupted Snape's response to such obvious drivel. Granger handled herself adequately in ordering her drink in Italian. Not perfect Italian, too much of accent and somewhat limited vocabulary but she made herself understood.

"Are you implying that we are similar? In what way, Granger? Were we sorted into the same house? Are we from the same generation? Do we work in similar fields? What do we have in common? Pray, don't say our hunger for knowledge."

Unfazed, she shrugged, "There goes that strategy." Their waiter arrived with the drinks and Granger used the time to re-organize her plans, he could practically hear the gears grinding. "Let's try this instead: Pretend you were never my professor and this is the first time we ever met."

She opened the menu and looked over the choices. "Severus," she started and by the way she said it, the way her lips formed his name, it was obvious it was unfamiliar and strange. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Snape rolled his eyes and signaled to waiter, having eaten enough times in the Ristorante to know his way around the menu.

Once they ordered, Hermione just sat there, a small smile on her face, enjoying the garlic bread. "I work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's challenging work, especially working with the diehard old guard. I'm a muggle born you see, and they don't look too kindly upon me."

"Probably not the only reason," Snape said sarcastically.

Hermione made a face, and Snape mentally patted himself in the back for finally eliciting some frustration from her.

"Sir, this is a date… try to be less hostile, will you? I warn you, if you keep sabotaging this date I will not keep my end of the bargain and will keep bothering you until I get a proper date. Now, we're going to enjoy a nice dinner, a walk around town, and then you're going to walk me to my room and kiss me goodnight like a proper gentleman. Is that understood?"

_Bossy little bitch. _"I've no choice in the matter if I want to get rid of you."

The meal, as always, was scrumptious Hermione tucked into it with obvious gusto. All the while she talked about her job, her life, her interests and would routinely demand answers for her questions. Often times he lied, because he _had_ read that book, and he _was_ interested in the new standards of the ministry, and _yes_ the Quibbler reported more accurately than the Daily Prophet, and _yes damn it_, potions was reaching an unprecedented high. It wouldn't do to encourage her.

After dinner they walked around town like Hermione had demanded, with her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, with her warm little body pressed against his side. She smiled a lot, Snape noticed, especially at him. It was hard to keep a good defense against such tactics.

"You don't seem like the dog-type, sir." Once in a while she would slip up, call him sir or professor. The pretense wasn't a very good one. "I've been wondering how you acquired Clover."

"She acquired me," he said, self- deprecatingly. "She followed me home one day… and that's the end of it."

There was probably more to it than that, Hermione thought, but chose not inquire further. "She's very friendly."

"Yes, terrible guard dog."

"But tremendously good company, I imagine," she said a bit sadly.

"That she is," he admitted. It was nice, more than nice, to be in Clover's company. Clover was always excited to see him, to show affection, to give comfort. There were days when he thought happiness was reading a book with clover at his feet. "Do you have a familiar?"

"No. Crookshanks, my cat familiar, passed away several years ago. I haven't the emotional stamina to commit myself to another pet yet. I still miss him"

"I see," he said, empathizing, knowing that Clover was passed her prime already. "Here you are, Granger." He said, stopping outside the inn she was staying at.

"Thank you, Professor, for the lovely evening."

"Severus," he said. "I'm supposed to be just Severus."

"Oh, yes, I keep slipping up-"

Then he kissed her, on the lips, like she had asked him to. And it was sweet, and awkward, and perfect, and everything she had wanted it to be. She held him for a bit longer than necessary afterwards. "It could be like this all the time, I know it, Severus."

He disentangled himself from her, and shook his head, saying, "Goodbye, Granger."

* * *

Please review! Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank to everyone who has reviewed. I give a little squeal every time i get one.

PART II

Severus went directly home after dropping off Granger, to give clover her nightly walk. Clover as always chose the path that led directly from his cottage to the beach. As they walked, Snape analyzed the night with Granger.

It had not felt wrong, he hadn't felt like a lecherous old man, like a pervert; like he thought he'd feel. Not even when he had kissed her. Hermione wasn't the Hermione he had known. It was different, he could separate the two now, and in that way it wasn't so bad anymore.

But still… could he run the risk of letting her in and having her leave him for someone younger, for someone nicer? It was not an easy decision to make. However, images of Hermione in bed with him reading a book, of walking together to the beach with Clover, of seeing her body naked and ready for him were starting to crowd his mind.

Using her words, he didn't think he had the emotional stamina for another romantic relationship either. The last one had almost killed him. Since then, he had dallied, but that had been all. What Hermione was looking for was a relationship of equals, a relationship that would take effort and time. He wasn't sure he could give her that. He wasn't sure he even wanted that. It would be too much.

He was fine by himself, had always been alone, and in the past years he had actually been quite happy. It was tempting to think of a companion, of Hermione, but it would entail changing his carefully constructed world for something that wasn't assured. He was content with his life as it was. Why tamper with that?

* * *

"Oh uh, I know that face."

Hermione smiled at her ex-husband, her sweet, friendly, silly ex-husband. "Hi, Ron."

"I'll come back later if this isn't a good time."

"No, come on in, I'm just brooding."

"No word yet, then?"

"None."

It had been a two weeks, two full weeks in which Hermione's hope had endured a painful death. She had achieved her goal, to make Snape aware of her as a woman, as an interesting potential mate, but the outcome hadn't been what she had expected. It hurt more than she had thought it would, his rejection, it wasn't supposed to hurt this much. Not like they had actually had a relationship.

Maybe it was the time and the effort she had put into him that made her feel so involved already, so hurt.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Join a convent."

"A what?"

"A muggle religious institution where women never have sex."

"Sounds awful," he said, then thought about it some more. "I should send little Rose there."

Hermione laughed, "You leave my goddaughter alone, Ronald Weasley, and stop telling her slytherins are evil."

"Yes, yes, Ms. Deputy Head," Ron said, rolling his eyes good naturedly. "Parvati heard from Padma that you're sad… soooooo she's decided to put a dinner together for you."

"Oh, Merlin."

"I've been ordered to drag you there if necessary."

"Yes, I'll go." Nothing like good-natured friends to make you feel even worse.

"Six o'clock this Friday," Ron said, kissing her on the forehead, and squeezing her shoulder tenderly.

She and Ron had divorced less than a year after marrying, both of them coming to the conclusion that they had been too young, influenced by friends and family, and not fitted to each other all, or even very much in love. They had remained close friends, and Parvati, his wife, had also become a good friend.

She was lucky in her life. Truly lucky. Severus would have been an enrichment to her life, but not a necessity to her happiness.

* * *

It had been an exhausting night. She'd gone over to Ron and Parvati's right after work, to be coddled by her friends, only to find out that the whole thing had been planed by Padma. Her good natured Ravenclaw friend, had devoted herself for the past few weeks to finding a suitable candidate to be Hermione's boyfriend.

The result was a thirty-two year old that played quidditch in his spare time, worked for the Ministry Library and had graduated top in his class at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, of course, with a normal sized nose and a perfect set of teeth.

There was nothing there though, when she looked at him there was no spark, no sizzle, no excitement. Padma's litte show was beside the point anyhow, as she wasn't looking for a boyfriend. She never had been. She had a comfortable life that she loved, a good job, good friends. Hermione was always of the mind that if it happened it happened, there was no need to go searching around for it.

With the Professor, she just _knew_, there had been a click somewhere that day of the Symposium when she had first seen him. With the Professor, she could have a lover, a companion, a friend…

How was it possible that she could have so many emotions toward him and him none at all for her?

She entered her empty flat, thinking of crookshanks again, and how much she missed him and his furry warmth. She picked up the mail from the floor and was about to leave it for another day when she noticed an envelope with a familiar penmanship and Italian stamps. Hermione ripped open the missive, her heart racing.

_I will be attending a conference on lycanthropy in Geneva next Saturday. Join me if you are so inclined._

A date. He was asking her out on a date. She kissed the admittance ticket enclosed in the envelope and let out an unbelievable shriek. She jumped on the couch for good measure, Tom Cruise style, and shrieked loudly again, causing her next door neighbors to bang angrily on the wall. She laughed it off; already flooing to Padma's to tell her the good news.

* * *

Severus waited outside the venue impatiently, refusing to look at his pocket watch yet again. Had her infatuation ran its course already? Such fickleness- ah but there she was swathed in deep purple robes, a beam of color amid the gray drabness of the other attendees.

For the last two weeks she had been on his mind, pulling him this or that way. His well established routine now seemed lacking. Snape could now easily imagine Granger in his life, could seamlessly superimpose her presence in his home, with Clover, in his life. It was a much better life, one with Granger. But it was lie.

Relationships rarely ever worked out like that. It was a fantasy. Granger was dreaming if she thought everything would be moonlit walks on the beach and soft kisses. She had a notion in her head that he was anything other than a bitter old man. He would cure her of that malady in no time.

By her walk, by her smile, he could tell she wasn't as sure of herself this time. She hesitated when she reached him, unsure of how to greet him. She stood, as if waiting for him to initiate, but he did nothing.

"About time, Granger," he said, turning around and walking toward the entrance. She wanted to get to know him, he thought, well this was it.

They took their seats with Hermione chattering before the conference started, he barely looked at her, much less contributed to the conversation. Finally she shut up, leaving them both knee deep in tension. That's how the whole conference passed by, and hour and a half of hell, disappointment, and cold jagged satisfaction.

As it was custom for such a gathering, the reception followed the presentations. Snape made sure to involve himself in heavy academic discussions with his fellow researchers, pointedly ignoring Hermione who was at his side. He made no introductions, and hardly spoke a word to her, except to direct her to fetch him a glass of wine.

Instead of going over to the bar, the chit walked out of the reception. He chased after her, his long legs quickly keeping pace with her angry strides. "What's the matter, Granger, didn't you have fun?" he mocked.

Hermione stopped and looked at him angrily, looking as if he wanted to hex him. "Why did you ask me here for? To make me miserable? To make yourself miserable? What for?"

"Why Granger, but we're on a date."

Her angry strides restarted at his mocking tone. He followed again, still going after her blood. Finally she reached the apparition point. "Silly girl," he said wanting to get the last word before she apparated away forever. "Did you think I would be anything but who I was tonight? Did you believe the tales of the misunderstood hero? Did you fantasize about me spouting poetry?"

"Screw you, Snape. I fantasized about talking to you, listening to you, reading together, traveling together. I wasn't blind to what kind of man you are, I knew you'd be a difficult man, stupidly I thought you'd be worth it. I could have dealt with it, I'm hardly perfect either, but I never imagined you'd be so vile, so petty."

"Well now you know and you're running just like I knew you would," he sneered.

"I didn't deserve this," she told him, her jaw clenched tight. "I could have loved you," she told him and apparated away.

Bloody dramatic bitch, he thought, angrily. But her words would ring in his brain for days after.

_I could have loved you._

_

* * *

_

She missed crookshanks. Hermione needed someone to cuddle just about now. She was angry, and sad, and humiliated, all sorts of emotions were boiling over. The asshole, the stupid fuck, how she hated him now.

He had meant to hurt her, to humiliate her. She closed her eyes tightly, unwilling to shed even one tear for what had just transpired. What she needed was a friendly face, not Padma who would have an 'I told you so' look in her eyes. Not Ron or Parvati who would feel sorry for her. Not Harry or Ginny, who would try to cheer her up. She needed Luna, with her kind face, and non-judgmental eyes, Luna who always said the most ludicrous of things but somehow managed to say exactly what was needed in difficult times.

Despite her resolve, tears did escape her at Luna's eccentrically decorated home as she confessed what had happened earlier. "Padma was right. I don't know him, who he is. It was stupid of me to cling to the idea of him."

"Padma likes Neville, I would even daresay loves him. She does nothing. Of course Neville doesn't have a clue. She watches him, says nothing, and cries when Neville gets a new girlfriend. She thinks it's better this way, safer."

Luna was highly perceptive, and Hermione, looking back now, couldld see it. Could see Padma in love with Neville. It was saddening to think of her friend holding that much feeling back.

"You had a bad date. That is all," Luna said in her dreamy voice.

Trust Loony Luna to put things in perspective. It was bad date with a man she didn't have to see ever again. Inconsequential. She had put herself out there and her plans had blown up in her face. But at least she had tried, at least she taken a chance.

"Did they talk about nargles in the conference? Werewolves are infected with nargles, it's the reason they lose their minds when they transform."

* * *

Snape had almost not gone.

It would be too reminiscent of that long ago time, people would talk, stare, and it was at Hogwarts. The school in which he had made so many mistakes, in which he had lived bitter and guilt ridden. In which he had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Hogwarts held no warm memories for him.

But it was Minerva, damn it, being buried at Hogwarts.

So he went, and had to suffer Potter, Weasley, and of course Granger as well as many other students who he didn't care to remember. It was beautiful funeral filled the same fripperies as any other, but for Minerva he stayed throughout the whole ordeal, watching as Hermione's tears ran down her face and down her neck.

It wasn't a secret that Minerva was Granger's favorite teacher, that the two had corresponded regularly. Granger was trying not to cry, failing, and wiping her tears angrily away. Her black robes didn't suit her at all; they made her look pale and gaunt. Her hair was everywhere, a mass of big thick curls. There was a fragility to her that he had never noticed before.

He retired because it was pointless to keep staring at the tomb, to keep staring at Hermione. The service was being held at the Great Hall, but he had no desire to relive his Hogwarts years. Instead he went to the library, the only place in the whole of the school that ever given him comfort.

Snape shouldn't have been surprised to see Hermione at the library fifteen minutes later, but he was. He had pictured her with her friends, taking solace from them. She didn't run when she saw him, instead asked point blank, "You've been offered the position of Headmaster. Are you going to take it?"

"No."

"I didn't think you would." She sat down on a chair; let her elbows rest on the smooth surface of the table.

"She died peacefully, Hermione, when she slept." He said trying to offer comfort. "She lived a good full life."

"I know," she said, "Why are you still here? I thought you'd be long gone by now."

"It feels… wrong to leave," he answered honestly.

She nodded as if she understood. They grieved together, for Minerva, teacher and friend, without sharing a word. They remained in each others company for hours in complete silence, undisturbed by other mourners, until the service was scheduled to end. Hermione apparated first, without even glancing at him or saying goodbye.

Snape sighed, somewhere deep down, knowing that he had lost something great even before he had the chance to even have it. He had acted out against her because… he didn't know why. He had been angry at her for the most part, for pursuing him, for embarrassing him in front of his colleagues, for a myriad of reasons true and false. That's who he was.

* * *

A few days after Professor McGonagall's funeral, her secretary informed her that she had a wizard waiting in her office claiming it was of the outmost importance to speak to her. Hermione entered the office worried, wondering what it could be about.

The man waiting for her was older, kindly looking, and vaguely familiar. He sat very straight, his white hair like puffs of cotton around his head. "Ms. Granger, good day," he said in heavily accented English."

"Please, excuse me, but do we know each other?"

"My name is Giuseppe Morretti. We saw each other once before, in Marseilles."

"Oh, yes, of course." It was the kindly wizard who had ceded his question to her. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"I'm Severus' friend. I've come to plead his case."

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"He made a mistake, Hermione, even though he won't admit it. He's unhappy. Even more so since his ex-colleague died. I worry about him."

"You're the one that sent the letter telling me where he lived," Hermione stated flatly.

"Yes."

"I appreciate your good intentions. But I'm afraid the professor doesn't want anything to do with me."

"It makes him feel dirty when you call him that. Like an old perverted man."

"What?" That took her by surprise, she hadn't imagined.

"Aside from being his former student, you're young, attractive, intelligent… too good for him. Not to mention liable to abandon him at the slightest whim. He thinks he will drive you away."

"He doesn't think that." _He couldn't possibly think that._

"I assure you he does. Just because he hides his emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel them. He made a mistake with you, one he realizes, and it's starting to gnaw at him. But don't expect him to come to you. He thinks he has ruined everything."

"How do you know what he thinks? Has he told you all this?"

"No. Severus doesn't talk, doesn't share, you have to piece together what he's feeling bit by bit."

"What do you suggest I do? Chase after him again," Hermione scoffed at the mere idea.

"Yes, that's exactly what you should do."

"Why should I? Why should I always be the one to initiate? To chase him?"

"Because he tried to push you away and you let him, you silly girl. You made it so easy for him."

"Was I supposed to just take it? To let him walk all over me?" Hermione said enraged, as if he was accusing her of failing a test.

"No, of course not." He snapped back. "You were supposed to be smarter than that!"

The elderly wizard stood up, "If your body, if your gut, if your heart hums when you see him, when you think of him, if they whisper to you that he's the one, then what the harm in taking another chance? He's a difficult man, one that you will enjoy discovering if you try."

Morretti was asking too much, she thought, way too much of her. Was she supposed to take his abuse? Hermione got to work, unwilling to let Snape back into her thoughts. Snape was old news, it had been months now.

* * *

The first thing he did nowadays when he gave a lecture was to scan the first row. Snape knew the reason behind the quick perusal of the first row, although he refused to acknowledge it. He wasn't going to dwell on something as inconsequential as that.

He put any non-relevant thoughts away and focused on his lecture and delivered it as perfectly as always. All the people that were in attendance were academics as well, people who enjoyed his lectures, who themselves were researchers and were eager for more knowledge. This was his world.

The questions too, were an exercise in thought. It was his favorite part, the debating, the discussion, the ideas transferred. It had been ruined as of late due to the same inconsequentiality that had him perusing the first row. Regardless, he didn't dwell.

There was nothing to do about it now. The behavior he had exhibited had been akin to an ill-tempered child. It had been her right to react the way she had.

"Any questions?" Several persons raised their hands and he went through them systematically.

In the back row, next to Moretti, a small hand was raised. Something in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't just anyone. His mouth suddenly went dry, so he pointed toward this person who he could barely see.

"Would you go out with me?"

"Yes."

Afterwards they had coffee at the campus where he had given the lecture, in a small little cafe filled with rushing students.

"You can probably pass for one of them."

Hermione laughed. "I'm thirty."

"Still young"

Hermione took one of his hands, a large long fingered hand in hers. "I'm not too young for you. In fact, my friends have always told me that I was born a forty year old. That being the case I'm much older than you."

He smiled at her, a bit sadly. But it was first time he had seen him smile. And it was a sight she would never forget. "I was divorced at twenty because I had made a terrible mistake. I married too young to someone whom I knew wasn't for me. I knew it, in my core I knew that Ron and I weren't meant to be."

"That was obvious," he snarked.

"It wasn't to me, or to a lot of people. We were, just as Ginny and Harry, the perfect couple. Ron and I would fight a lot, all the time, it was normal for us… but it wasn't normal for a married couple. We divorced before we started hating each other. I promised myself I wouldn't repeat the same mistake again."

She took a deep breath. "I haven't found anyone I want to be with since then. I take relationships seriously; I haven't been in one in years… I haven't wanted to because I haven't met someone who's compatible, who is everything that I want. Until you, until I saw you that day in St. Mungo's. I've been nothing but honest with you, and I demand the same courtesy, I need to know if you feel something even remotely similar of what I feel for you."

"That said," she went on, obviously not finished. "I know you're a difficult man, I know what I'm getting into, but I will not take any type of abuse from you. If you think that you cannot treat me decently, like I deserve to be treated, I'll walk away now.''

There were things he couldn't say, words that caught in his throat, emotions that he couldn't describe and fears he couldn't even begin delve into. Her big brown eyes were expectant, waiting for an answer. But he couldn't say anything even as if he feared he'd never see her again if he failed her this time.

He should tell her that he was out of his depth, that he had never been in a true relationship, that he couldn't speak, that he was damn lucky she still wanted him, that she was beautiful and intelligent. That she was much more that he had ever even dare to dream of.

"Snape?" she asked. "It's strange to call you Severus. I can't quite get use to it. I like Snape. Snape is good." She was looking at him unsure, knowing that the outcome was in his hands.

He granted her a smile again, a good solid smile, and said "I could love you."


End file.
